The NotSoHappy Substitute Girlfriend
by Ellie 5192
Summary: Follows The NotSoSimple Decision, tag to Ripple Effect. She shouldn't be so annoyed that he wants so many of her in the same room. And what's with the mood swing? S/J est. One shot. Story can stand alone.


_The NotSoHappy Substitute Girlfriend_

_Just thought I'd give my own take on the aftermath of Ripple Effect, and since this fits in the same 'verse as the _NotSo _series, I've posted accordingly. Rating for situations and implications. As always, I hope you enjoy reading as much and I enjoy writing._

_sjsjsjsj_

"So... 17 you say?"

"Huh?"

He's sitting on the couch, sprawled along its length, watching the television while she goes over some of her latest research results. She's been relegated to the arm-chair for lack of space, but given she's also spread half her stuff over the coffee table too, she doesn't really mind. And the fact that he's going back to D.C tomorrow- because he's expected in town on Sunday evening, before the big Monday morning meeting with the President- means, in all honesty, he can stay plonked on her couch as long as he likes, and in whatever manner suits him.

He shakes his head a little, and she realises that he's mostly talking to himself.

"17" he says again, whistling to himself with a slight grin.

"Jack" she chides, rolling her eyes without looking up from the pages in her hand.

"Wish I could've been there" he mutters, looking at her out the corner of his eye with a smirk.

"It was quite a sight" she agrees, still looking at the papers. "Weird"

He's not sure if she's talking about the situation at the SGC or the schematics she's looking at, but he decides to keep on his current train of thought, determined to distract her.

"Wonder how many of them were together"

"Hmm?"

She's only barely listening to him. He's been mulling over various ways to drag her from her work for hours, and since beer, hockey, Wizard of Oz and even sex has failed to do it, he's willing to try anything.

"Were there many 'me's?"

"Ahhhh..." she starts, pulling herself away from her readings to give him more that a two syllable answer. "No. No, there weren't. I remember thinking that was strange, actually" she adds, going back to her papers.

"Not so much" he says with a shrug. "_I'm_ not there, and you said that the realities were all relatively similar"

"Mmm, I guess"

"Still... would've loved to have seen you all in the same room. Talking. Theorising. Maybe... even..."

"Oh, Jack, for God's sake"

"What?"

She only rolls her eyes at him, giving him a reproachful look before turning a page of her report and comparing it to a loose piece of paper which, from what he can see, has two graphs on it. How anyone can look so long and hard at so many complicated things and still find something interesting to say about them, he'll never know.

"I wonder what they were all like. I _really_ should have been there. Drawn up a tally or something. Blue jello, motorbikes, flowers. You know, add up who likes what, come up with some theory about the likelihood of _you_ liking something..."

"I doubt there would have been much difference" she says absently.

"So... then... you all would have liked..."

She looks up to see him waggling his eyebrows, raking his gaze up and down her body.

"Liked _what_?" she bites, her eyes going small in challenge, realising for the first time that his mind may well have been in the gutter this entire conversation.

"You know. You might have all had... the same, ahh... appetites"

"Oh God, will you grow up" she says, shaking her head with a disbelieving look.

"Can't. Tried. Failed"

"Well then... shhhh"

"Oh, come -on, you're not _really_ looking at those things there. You're listening to me" he adds with a boyish grin.

"No. Really. I'm not"

"Sure you are. And, by the way, what's the likelihood of getting a few of those Carters back here? Flying them to Washington for an early birthday present for me?"

She finally looks up, the report dropping to her lap as her hand goes slack, a look of disbelief and annoyance flittering across her features.

"Are you telling me" she starts, sitting forward in her chair a little. "That you'd like to bring some of those other _me's_ back here to fulfil some kinky, sexual fantasy?"

"Is that a trick question?"

He looks at her blankly, child-like innocence projected over a teasing demeanour, taking great pleasure in seeing her so angry and irritated with him. After so long spent hiding every emotion, good or bad, he loves to see them behave like any other couple. He likes to see the annoyance, the vexation, the exasperation. He once told her that one of the most novel sights is her domestic 'angry face', when they stand toe to toe like any other couple and argue over the dishes, or the car, or vacuuming the lounge.

For him, any reaction other than 'Sir, yes, Sir' is a welcomed one.

Of course, there are some reactions that he prefers, and some he's learned to avoid.

"I'm going to go finish this in the study" she says lowly. "You let me know when I'm a good enough substitute for you"

And with that she hauls herself out of the chair, gathers her papers in one swift motion, and leaves the room, heading for the small study in the front room.

"Sam" he calls. "Sam!"

She refuses to turn around, and while a part of him is amused at her behaviour, a part does feel guilty for pushing her buttons. It takes him a moment, but when he notices she's not coming back he quickly gets up to follow, realising he might have hit a nerve, though he doesn't know why.

He reaches the study just as she's rearranging her things on the desk, her back to him. He takes a moment to study her movements, and something tells him she's not as mad as she's pretending to be. Still, something boils just under the surface, and he's worried that something more may have been happening in the mountain that he doesn't know about.

"Hey... what's that all about?" he asks softly.

Her shoulders sag, and she lets out a silent sigh, resting her elbow on the desk and her head on her hand.

"I don't know"

"It's not like you to be so touchy"

"No, I know"

She turns the swivel chair towards him, rubbing her forehead, as he approaches to stand right next to her.

"What's up?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. I don't know. Long week I guess"

"Sam"

She sighs and leans her head against his hip, his hand coming up to rest against her opposite shoulder in a semi-hug.

"I guess seeing all those realities... was weird"

"We've done alternates before" he reminds her gently, rubbing her shoulder.

"Yeah. But seeing all those possibilities in one place... all the ways my life could have gone"

"Makes you think?"

"Makes me thankful"

Her quick correction tells him more than she could ever articulate, and he squeezes her shoulder in comfort.

"I could tell who was really happy and who wasn't. We were together in some, not in others. You were with the program you weren't. In one I know she was married..."

"The Martouf one?"

"Yeah"

She had told him about the encounter. She had explained that her feelings for Martouf, even after all this time, are more bizarre than her feelings for Jack ever were. He understands that, and doesn't feel betrayed or angry at the almost-kiss and what it might mean. Her feelings for both Martouf and Lantesh had _always_ been confused, and he, more than anyone, knows how integrated Jolinar's emotions are with her own. To see Martouf alive and well, and not dead by her own hand, is hard enough without his judgement. While a little green monster might want to rear its head at the thought, he can't deny her that moment of weakness. Not after everything else they've been through.

"So... what's up now?"

"I don't know. I don't know why I snapped, I'm sorry"

"Was it... something I said?" he asks gently, his hand continuing its movement on her arm. She sighs again at his question, and takes a moment to think through what really set her off.

"It's silly, but, I guess... you wanting the _others_ back here"

He squeezes her shoulder and pulls the other office chair over, lowering himself into it. He takes her hands and looks her in the eye, pushing her hair back, though it isn't really in her face anyway. She always appreciates the gesture, and given how little she allows others to take care of her, she appreciates the man it comes from even more.

"You know that nothing could ever come close to the real thing, right?"

"I know. I know you were just kidding"

"Do you? Because, Sam, I've never known you to be sensitive"

"No. I'm not, usually"

"But?"

"I got thinking about what Janet told me"

"Janet? What'd she say?"

"About the pregnancy"

He watches her closely for a moment, trying desperately to gage whether she's dropping a hint or simply stating a fact. She smiles a little in reassurance, and the lack of nervousness tells him that she isn't being subtle or obtuse, but merely getting to the eventual point.

"What about it?"

"Well, aren't you curious?"

"Truthfully? I don't wanna know"

"Why?"

"Because... There is every possibility that it's not me"

And there, finally, is the reason neither of them have really talked through the alternate realities they have encountered, this time or any other. For every answer they receive there is another question, and just as Sam can be sure some of her alternates were with Jack, she can be sure some of them were not. For all she knows, the woman who was happily _not Martouf's_ was a very happy Mrs. Shanahan, expecting child number one, decorating the nursery in that beautiful house in the suburbs. She, in another reality, may have found a way to love Pete like she never could in this one, and the thought both intrigues her and terrifies her.

Jack looks at her, holding her gaze, and a moment of understanding passes between them. They may not be ready for any kind of family talk, and really, the idea of marriage hasn't even come up either, but to start questioning every decision they may or may not have made is not healthy. They are where they are because of past decisions, and they aren't still fighting the Ori plague and they haven't been wiped out by the goa'uld and they're finally, wonderfully, together. That should mean something.

"I'm sorry for being so weird over it" she says softly, squeezing his hand, hoping to put the little outburst behind them.

"Yeah" he breaths, looking down to their hands before up to her face again. "I know you. You want to know everything. But..."

"I guess not knowing is..."

"Safer" he supplies, thinking of all the versions of her out there who don't love him, and maybe never did. All the versions of himself still married to Sara. Kowalski's and Jonas Hanson's. Charlie. All those endless possibilities.

"Much safer" she agrees.

"We can't ask those questions. You were the one who told me that"

"I know. I just... got defensive when I thought that, maybe, you'd like one of them better, for whatever reason" she quietly admits, and given his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, she ducks her head sheepishly. "Stupid, I know"

"No. Not stupid" he reassures, rubbing his thumb over her skin, thinking of how close they came to never being a _them_, and the fact that somewhere in the multiverse there would surely be a Mrs. Samantha Shanahan, who _is_ waiting on a new addition after all. "Completely unfounded, irrational and paranoid maybe, but..."

She chuckles at him, ducking her head as he grins at her, the sombre mood effectively broken.

"...never stupid"

She looks at him and they grin at each other rather stupidly for a moment, savouring the ability to do this freely, without fear of reprimand. His expression turns a little more serious as she looks on tenderly, and he looks back to their hands for a moment before looking back to her.

"No matter what we've got in some other reality, whatever we do or don't have here... You gotta know, Sam... I could _never_ want anything else"

"I know"

"No. Really. There are a thousand varieties of usout there, but I'd like to think we're... Unique. Call me crazy but, put twenty of you in a room, and I guarantee I could pick _you_ out"

"You think? We all kinda look the same"

"Yeah, but like I said. You're special. We've made our own way"

She smiles at him again and leans forward to steal a lingering kiss. They part only far enough for him to speak, their foreheads leaning together.

"You could never be a substitute, Sam. Ever. And I could never love any of those others the way I love you"

"I know that. I think I just needed..."

"To have a weird girly moment?"

"Something like that" she says around a laugh. "A little reassurance is... good"

"And are you reassured?"

"Yep"

"Good"

"Thank you"

"Welcome. So. Now that that's sorted... what _are _the chances of getting those others back here?"

She rolls her eyes at him, smiling, and shakes her head a little. "Not a chance. You're stuck with _me_"

"Hmmm"

He stands up, seemingly contemplating something.

"What?" she asks, wondering where his mind could possibly be going when he looks so cute yet so devious.

"Come with me" he says, holding out his hand to her with a hint of a smirk. She takes it with trepidation, her expression wary, her curiosity peaked.

"Where are we going?"

"Well, if I can't have seventeen Carters on my birthday, I think it's only fair that I _get some_, as much as possible, in the meantime"

"No, Jack, I have these reports-" she laughs, only half tugging at his grip.

"The reports will be there tomorrow night. Your boyfriend won't"

"Don't you think we're a little old to be saying _boyfriend_?" she asks casually, almost as an afterthought, as he's dragging her across the hallway towards her bedroom. They both know that if she doesn't really want to go with him she's more than capable of breaking his grip. The fact that she doesn't tells him all he needs to know.

"Well, if not that, then what?"

She tugs suddenly at his grip, pulling him back around to face her as she half pins him against the closest wall, stepping so close that her body rests flush against his. Her face stays next to his cheek and her breath tickles at his neck as she taunts him. He's looking down at her with a mix of shock and pure lust, his free hand resting at the small of her back, and though she usually lets him lead, when she does take control she drives him nuts. Slowly- too slow for his liking- her mouth moves closer to his ear, her teasing already beginning, the ghost of a grin on her face.

"How about _lover_?" she whispers huskily, her hand moving to clutch his tightly at their side. A shudder runs through him just as she kisses him fiercely, and it takes all his effort to direct them the rest of the way to the bedroom without breaking anything. Her arms come around his neck, clutching at the material across his shoulder blades, her mouth hot against his, and a sudden flash of memory hits him, sending him straight back to the locker room all those years ago. He doesn't care how many versions of her there are out there, he's never trading his for anything. Especially when she does _that,_ and he realises that Neanderthal-Carter has nothing on the real thing.


End file.
